


Armistice

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Route, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reconciliation Sex, listen the first time i saw the war table i knew its ultimate destiny in my heart:, to host some fucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 17:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: “Are you hearing voices?” Felix asked, blunt as ever.Dimitri winced, and then nodded. “They are not so demanding, of late, but I hear them still.” He closed his eyes, listening. “They are not always clear. Sometimes, bits and pieces…”“Stop that,” Felix snapped at him, and Dimitri blinked his eyes open, gazing into his face. This time, Felix didn’t look away. “Sifting through your ghosts while I’m sitting here beside you. Honestly. Listen to my voice, instead.”





	Armistice

**Author's Note:**

> There are some very minor spoilers for near the end of Azure Moon Route here. Also, some implied references to some Bad Idea Probably Dubcon Sex in Felix and Dimitri's history. If neither of these things bothers you, please do proceed and enjoy, and thank you for reading.

Dimitri sat alone and hunched over the war table, head in his hands, staring at a painfully detailed map of the imperial capital. Pins and marks and notes and scribbles of all sorts blurred together, battle plans and tactical concerns, and he had been studying it all for so long that he was certain if he closed his eyes, he would see it still, burned into the backs of his eyelids. It was all sound, he thought. He couldn’t hope to improve on what was already there, and yet, he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from trying. 

The neat, precise shape of the imperial palace at the center of the map drew his eye, again and again. The interior was less detailed than the city around it, the minute details within unknown to them. The throne was marked, however, and someone had circled it in red. It struck Dimitri almost as absurd, that circle. As though anyone could have possibly forgotten their ultimate aim. It was almost insulting, boiling it all down this way, condensing everything into a simple shape on a map. 

He stared at it, brows furrowed, shoulders bunched, elbows on the table, fingers threaded together beneath his chin. His old, familiar headache pressed behind his eyes. As ever, he could hear the sighs and whispers buried within the ringing silence all around, breathing his name. He did not think they would ever fade completely. 

Two sharp knocks startled him out of his pointless reverie. He sat up straight and opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get out so much as a word, the door swung open, a flutter of movement at the corner of his vision. He dragged his gaze away from the map, with effort. 

“Still awake, I see,” Felix spoke from the doorway. He had a familiar, sour sort of look on his face, and when Dimitri met his eyes his gaze slid off to one side. He was carrying something in the crook of his arm, Dimitri noted, with interest. A thermos, of some sort? “One of the merchants brought this,” Felix explained, evidently having noticed his curious expression. 

“What is it?” 

“Coffee,” he said, flatly, pushing the door closed behind him with a foot. Dimitri sat back and watched him approach, eyebrows climbing. A welcome, particular sort of warmth filled his chest as Felix dropped into a chair beside him. “Personally, I think it’s disgusting, but it keeps me awake.” He twisted the top off the container, and wrinkled his nose at the steam that curled up from its depths. 

“It smells a bit… burnt,” Dimitri noted, amused. 

“Everyone who knows how to make it is asleep,” Felix said, as though that was any sort of explanation. “Mind your own business.”

“You brought it here,” Dimitri reminded him. “You’ve made it my business, now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to focus, with that stuff fouling up the room…” 

Felix rolled his eyes, and brought the thermos up to take a cautious sip. His face contorted in a way that suggested it tasted every bit as bad as it smelled. “Good,” he said. “Go to bed, then.” 

_Come with me._ The words formed on his tongue, soft and sweet and daring, and he very nearly spoke them aloud. A flush swept up into his face, and a nervous flutter clenched through his guts. Too daring, surely. Their relationship was… complex, now, and he preferred to let Felix navigate them through at whatever pace he thought best. It was safer, that way.

“I did try,” he said, instead. “It is a pointless endeavor. I can’t sleep, when I…” he hesitated. Felix shot him a _look._

“When you what?” he demanded. 

“When I feel this way,” Dimitri sighed. He ducked his head. Out of anyone, Felix might as well know the truth. He knew most everything else. “This headache,” he explained. 

“Are you hearing voices?” Felix asked, blunt as ever. 

Dimitri winced, and then nodded. “They are not so demanding, of late, but I hear them still.” He closed his eyes, listening. “They are not always clear. Sometimes, bits and pieces…” 

“Stop that,” Felix snapped at him, and Dimitri blinked his eyes open, gazing into his face. This time, Felix didn’t look away. “Sifting through your ghosts while I’m sitting here beside you. Honestly. Listen to my voice, instead.” 

Dimitri smiled. “You know I am always glad to,” he said. Felix outright colored at that, even as his fine features all pulled and pinched together to glare. Dimitri’s smile widened, that warm feeling in his chest growing ever stronger. 

“I can’t tell which comes first,” Felix muttered, turning his attentions hastily back to his bitter, steaming drink. “Your headaches are worse when you don’t sleep, but you claim not to sleep because of the headaches. Though, in this case, I suspect it has more to do with the fact that we’ll be marching on Enbarr, next.” He sighed, setting the container down carefully beside the map. He bent over it, flicking his fingers at the stuck pins indicating the city’s great forward gate. “Your thoughts are all of _her_, no doubt.” 

“Yes.” There was no sense denying it. “Though not for the reasons you may think. I… intend to speak with her,” he said, carefully, watching his face. 

Felix turned slowly, his gaze searching.

“Really.” 

“Yes. You mustn’t speak of it to --” 

“I am not a fool,” Felix hissed at him, holding up a hand. “Please.” 

Dimitri nodded. “The professor and I will meet her, if she will agree. If we can end this war without further bloodshed… I will hear what she has to say. Perhaps, if I can only hear her reasoning from her own mouth, in her own words…” 

“And this will satisfy your ghosts.” 

He smiled, wanly. “Not at all. But, as you have often said, yourself -- it is not my ghosts that I must serve. The desires of the dead come second to the betterment of the living, and I think all can agree that a peaceful resolution to this conflict serves the people better than a bloody siege.” 

“I have often said that,” Felix agreed, quietly. There was a softness in his expression, now, one that Dimitri had noticed there more and more often in recent weeks. An echo of the way he’d often looked at him long before all the horrors and complexities would tear them apart, nearly for good.

Nearly, but not quite. He held his breath, though he did not know exactly what he hoped for. 

But Felix only sighed, grumbling under his breath, turning to take another hasty gulp of coffee. 

Dimitri let his breath out, and tried not to be disappointed. He turned back to the map, tapping the red circle around the sketched, empty throne. “I cannot promise that it will work. I am not so foolish as to underestimate the strength of her convictions. Intentions are all well and good, but I will act to protect my own people first, if I must.” 

“Of course you will,” Felix scoffed, and though Dimitri searched for it, he could not find the sarcasm in his tone. Familiar annoyance, certainly, but… sincere. “You are our king,” he added, quietly, as though that simple observation explained all. 

Perhaps it did. He did not think Felix meant it so straightforwardly. There was a depth of emotion in his words he did not often display, and though Felix was often adamant about looking always to the future, hearing him speak so made it impossible not to think of their past. It was a fraught thing, but there had been love there, once. Yet, beneath that, in the depths of their darkest days together, there lurked also disgust, desire, shame, lust. The things they had done to one another, _said_ to one another. The violence of both word and deed, the terrible pleasure they had taken in each other’s pain… and in their own, as well. 

He exhaled, slowly. Things were different, now, and fragile for their changing state. He reminded himself of this daily, several times daily, now, but though he bit his tongue, he could not help but speak. 

“_Our,_” he repeated, carefully. 

Felix glanced at him. “What?” 

“...Ah. Nothing. It is only… the way you spoke, just now. _Our_ king.” 

Felix was looking at him as though he’d sprouted a second head. “What of it, exactly? Speak plainly. You’re not making sense.” 

He couldn’t help it. He laughed, flushing hot, raising a bashful hand to brush through the hair at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “It’s hard to think of you accepting such an arrangement, still. Accepting me as _your_ king, and not simply…” he shrugged. “_A_ king, conceptually, in the distance.” 

Predictably, Felix scoffed at him. “You really are a fool,” he muttered, and when he set his drink down anew he did it with force enough to splash a corner of the map. “You were always my prince. From the very start. Even as a boar, as a pitiful beast, you were my prince. If I have trouble thinking of you as my king, now, it’s only because of that -- not because I have ever had any doubt that you were _mine._” 

And he crossed his arms, face pink, brows knit, refusing to so much as look at him. Dimitri gaped at him. As though his words hadn’t just flayed him open with as much efficiency as any of his swords! 

“Felix…” he spoke the name almost reverently. 

“Stop it,” Felix hissed. “That isn’t meant to be a romantic sort of declaration, you know. You’re -- inescapable. A shackle I’ll never be rid of.” 

He wanted, more than anything, to touch him. To take his scowling face in his hands, to turn his chin up and brush the hair from his face… his fingers twitched. He exhaled, slowly. 

“You should go,” he said, softly. “There is no reason for you to choke down that burnt drink to stave off sleep, simply so you can sit here beside me and listen to me spout idealistic hopes and dreams.” He tilted his head, smiling. “I may be a shackle, but you needn’t make wearing me more uncomfortable than you absolutely must, Felix.”

Felix made a faint, breathy sound that Dimitri could have almost sworn was a _laugh_, and shook his head. “And then who will answer you, in this empty room?” he gestured around, pointedly, refusing to look at him. “Ghosts. I won’t allow that.”

“Ah.” Dimitri swallowed, hard. It was too much. He was drowning in all the affection he had for this man, exhausted from the effort of keeping it quiet. “There is another very good reason that you should go, however.” 

“And what’s that,” Felix bristled, prickly as ever. Dimitri held up his hands, soothing. 

“The longer you stay, the more difficult I find it to hold myself back from saying things you may not wish to hear. I… do not wish to make you uncomfortable, Felix. Or worse, to risk this friendship you’ve offered, of late. It is more precious to me than you know. I --” 

“Don’t presume to know what I know and what I don’t,” Felix growled at him, interrupting. “Everything you say and do makes me uncomfortable in some way or another, and I’m still here, aren’t I?” He glared. 

From Felix, it was practically an invitation. His fingers twitched again. He wondered what Felix would do if he reached out for him, now. 

“It is only that I have done so many things wrong. I do not know what our future holds, exactly, but whatever it is, Felix… I would like to be able to do right by you, for once.” 

“You say that like you’re the only one at fault,” Felix grumbled, refusing to meet his eyes, as usual. “The only one to blame for everything. Well, knock it off, you hear me? We all carry our share of it.” He placed his hands on the table, shoulders bunched, staring downward. 

“But, I --” 

“Dimitri,” Felix snapped. 

He closed his mouth. He knew that tone. He folded his hands over one another atop the table, and waited for him to continue.

It took a long minute, but eventually, Felix took a deep breath, and looked up. Dimitri couldn’t quite read the look on his face -- anger, of course, but so much else with it. “I don’t regret any of the things we’ve done,” he said, firmly, and it was so unexpected a statement that at first Dimitri was sure he’d misheard. He blinked. 

“You… don’t?” He thought back, sifting through memories. Blood in his mouth. Felix’s sword at his throat. Voices shrieking in his head, Felix shouting in his face, eyes burning, so close. Sweat and tears and dark, painful bruises that took months to fade, and when they were gone, he always found he missed them. They were proof, of sorts, that Felix still cared. “I hurt you terribly, so many times,” he said, softly. “You were trying to show me the way, but I didn’t want to know. The voices, the delusions… their demands were simpler. I hated you for bringing me back, for making things difficult, again.” 

“And I hated you for needing it,” Felix said. “What of it. This is what it means to move forward. You do what must be done, even if you hate every moment. I don’t see the point of dwelling on it once it’s behind me.” He hunched down a little lower in his seat. “Besides. I didn’t…” he frowned. Exhaled, loudly. Shrugged. “I didn’t hate _every_ moment,” he said. “And even when I was so angry at you I thought I might die, even when I wanted to reach into the heavens and wrap my hands around the Goddess’s throat myself for allowing such things to happen to you, to me, to all of us -- even then, all I really wanted was to have you back. To think you were dead, then to find you were alive, and then to realize all that time I called you beast and boar and worse, I had no idea how far you could truly sink…” 

He laughed, grim and low in his throat. Dimitri held his breath. 

“I thought, what a fool I was, back then. I thought that you were hiding yourself, but I see now that the truth is you were fighting every moment. The things I thought were lies…” he ran a hand through his hair and looked at him, full in the eyes. Dimitri let out his breath, gazing back at him. “I thought if I could only have _that_ Dimitri back, how lucky I would be.” 

“I can never be that boy again,” Dimitri said, quietly. “He is as dead and gone as the boy I was before Duscur.” 

Felix’s eyes flashed at that, his mouth twisting downward. “What an idiot I was, letting him leave my sight even for a moment. Thinking he was so cunning and manipulative, fooling everyone but me. I knew it wasn’t true, by the end. I just didn’t know what to do about it.” He reached out, then, pushing lightly against Dimitri’s shoulder. 

It was too much. Direct contact, even through Felix’s gloves and his own shirt and heavy cape. He reached out, taking Felix’s hand in his. He expected resistance, for Felix to pull away, but when no such thing happened, he took it as permission and threaded their fingers together, warm through their gloves. Felix dropped his gaze to stare at their linked hands, face flushed. 

“So you hurt me,” he said. “Do you think that I hold that against you? I abandoned you -- twice! Left you to die. Do you think any ill considered decision we’ve made together ever hurt me half as much as hearing you were _dead?_” He shook his head. “If you must know, I was glad for the pain. Every bruise, every cut, every bloody scrape you gave me, all I could think was -- he’s _alive._” He squeezed his hand, once, and then snatched his back into his lap. “You would never have fucked me like that if _you_ weren’t in there somewhere still.” 

“That doesn’t make it right,” Dimitri said, quietly, flushing hot with shame and desire and then more shame, that he could presume to feel desire at a time like this. 

“I don’t care about _right,_” Felix replied, his voice like the crack of a whip, sharp and stinging. “Right, what is right, anyway? If I had given up on demanding some perfect daydreamed fantasy from you sooner, maybe I could have…” he trailed off. Clenched his jaw. Dimitri longed to run his fingers along the obvious bulge of it, to smooth his tension away with a soft touch and a long kiss. He swallowed, holding himself barely still. “This is why I refuse to look back,” Felix continued. “There’s so much blame to go around. What’s the point in wallowing? You’re here now, and so am I.” 

“Yes,” Dimitri agreed, soft and somber. His body ached with the effort of holding himself back. “Thank you for telling me, all the same. I do not know if I deserve such forgiveness, but… I am glad.” 

“Of course you are.” Felix looked down and shook his head, and then he let out a low little chuckle that might have been genuine mirth, or despair, or both. Dimitri saw his fingers clench into fists and then relax again, the leather of his gloves creaking with the movement. “Do you know, that’s the first time you’ve touched me, since my father died.” 

Dimitri flinched back, brow furrowing. That couldn’t be right. He paged backward through the months in his mind. Surely… surely. Back and back, all the way to Gronder, to blood and death and sorrow so heavy he thought he might be crushed beneath the weight of it. 

And he realized it was true.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was afraid to, at first. After all that had happened… I didn’t think I was worthy to even stand in your sight.” 

“Typical,” Felix sighed, quietly. “You’ve never understood. When Glenn died, I remember thinking -- none of the people around me understood. Their words were meaningless. I thought, when Dimitri finds me, he’ll know what I need.” Another low, indecipherable laugh. “I thought we would hold each other and weep sweetly in each other’s arms. I never imagined that you would be so silent, so distant, so out of reach. And in the end, I never cried at all. I used to cry at nothing, you know, every damned day, and I never shed a tear for my own brother. And now my father, too. He’s dead, and I’m alive, and the only other person in the world that could possibly understand my grief is too afraid to touch me.” 

He _was_ afraid. His stomach churned with it, even as he stood. He watched Felix move his head, saw him tilt his chin up to follow him up. He was so afraid he thought he might vomit, but even so, he placed his hands on Felix’s shoulders, gazing down at him. His own fear was meaningless, in this moment. In this moment, all that mattered was that he did this _right._

He leaned down, aware of how he loomed over Felix, how strong he could be even when he tried to be gentle, and pressed their mouths together, soft and sweet. 

For a moment, he thought Felix might rebuff him, throw him off, perhaps never speak to him again. But then he made a low, affirming sound and parted his lips against him, inviting more. _Asking_ for it. Dimitri pressed in closer, answering the request with eager, hopeful action, licking into his mouth, finding Felix’s tongue with his own. They spoke in an older language, this way, heart to heart, and part way through Dimitri yanked off his gloves one by one and threw them carelessly aside so that he could reach up and cradle Felix’s face in his hands and _feel_ him, skin to skin. He ran his thumbs over his cheeks, his fingers up his jawline, and brushed his fingertips back over his ears and into his hair. Felix moaned into his mouth at that contact, and a bolt of heat went through him at the sound of it, at the memory of having heard it before, at the desire to pull a thousand more sounds exactly like it from his lips. He felt Felix’s hands rest at his hips, squeezing him tight, and then Felix tilted his face and deepened their kiss, humming approval and his own desire up into his mouth. 

“Felix,” he murmured, muffled and barely intelligible between breaths. 

“Shut up,” Felix hissed, capturing his lips again. Dimitri let him take control of it, let him set their rhythm and pace, timed himself to the sound of his quickening breaths, inhaled sharp through his nose. He had a bitter taste, acrid and strange, and Dimitri realized all at once what it was -- the damned _coffee_ \-- and he laughed, pulling back and turning his face aside to breathe. 

“What the hell is the matter with you?!” Felix demanded, tightening his grip on his hips until it was almost painful to endure. 

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri gasped, leaning forward to press his forehead against Felix’s shoulder. “Gods! It’s --” he stood straight, turning wildly, and picked up the thermos. “This is _awful_,” he said. And then, at Felix’s uncomprehending expression, he laughed again. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I can’t -- Normally, I wouldn’t have even -- _Felix._ Do you know how awful something has to be for me to _taste_ it?” 

“What are you _talking_ about?” 

“And you were just drinking it! You were going to just sit here, all night, and…” he laughed again, and Felix pushed him roughly back. Dimitri’s back hit the edge of the table, and Felix stood up so fast his chair pitched over onto its back. 

“You are unbelievable,” Felix informed him, plucking the container out of his hand. “I ought to pour it over your head.”

He didn’t, though. Instead, he set the thing patiently back on the table -- a little further away, this time -- and reached up to wind his arms up around Dimitri’s shoulders, rolling up onto his toes to reach. Dimitri swallowed down another bout of shaking mirth with considerable effort, and in one swift movement, he reached down to hook his arm beneath Felix’s backside and hauled him up, seating himself on the broad expanse of the war table. Felix made a _much_ happier sort of sound, settling atop his lap, straddling him with his knees atop the table, and so arranged they resumed their eager kissing in earnest. 

Dimitri reached back to pull Felix’s hair down, his fingers scrabbling clumsily at the knot and tie at the back of his head, until he finally lost his patience and just snapped the thing between his fingers. Felix made an annoyed sound, but when Dimitri ran his hands through, starting from the back of his neck, he settled back into pleased and eager moaning soon enough. Felix’s hips rolled against him, his arms tightened around him, and his kisses became more urgent, more demanding, until they were both practically grinding against one another, hard in their pants, their breathing heavy and labored.

Felix pulled back. He rapped his knuckles against Dimitri’s iron breastplate. “Take this off,” he demanded, but Dimitri was already moving for the straps and buckles before he finished speaking the words. Felix watched him struggle, for a moment, and then with a great show of impatient eye rolling he reached down to help him, his dextrous fingers working it loose with ease. Dimitri tossed it aside, and though it made considerable noise as it crashed onto the table beside them, well, he was long past caring. Everyone else was asleep, and if they were not, they hopefully had the sense to leave them be! 

Apparently, Felix thought much the same, because his hands flew to the clasp of his cape, next. Dimitri followed his lead, stripping himself of armor and garments until there was a great pile sprawled over the table, and he was sitting half nude at full attention with Felix straddling him still. 

Felix made an approving sound, and made a great, lengthy show of removing his gloves. 

“Felix,” Dimitri whispered, his voice pathetically affected, practically a whine. 

“Hush,” Felix said. He pinched the fingers of one glove in his teeth and yanked it free, then used his free hand to pull the other off, too. Dimitri gathered him both, plucking the one gently out of his mouth, and threw those, too, far aside. 

Felix licked his lips, and ran his bare fingers up into Dimitri’s hair. Dimitri let his head tip back, humming with pleasure as Felix made his way down over the back of his head, down his neck, and then smoothed his palms over his shoulders. Dimitri had the distinct sense that he was being measured, and though he wasn’t quite sure of the metrics, evidently Felix liked whatever conclusion he drew, because he then leaned in to latch his lips and teeth against a cord of muscle in his neck. Dimitri hissed, softly, and Felix laughed against his skin and worked his way down to his shoulder, kissing, biting, sucking faint marks into his skin. 

“Felix,” Dimitri tried again. “I want you to know. Whatever you want, I am at your service. I…” 

Felix lifted his head, and then covered Dimitri’s mouth with one hand. Dimitri quieted, gazing at him imploringly over his fingers. 

“Tell me one thing,” he said, meeting his eyes as he spoke. “Do you want me, still?” 

Dimitri nodded, vehemently, and Felix’s lips twitched into smile, just for a moment, until he caught himself and smoothed his expression out once more.

“Then I don’t want to hear anything more about service,” he said. “If you must speak, tell me how good this feels.” He used the hand that wasn’t over Dimitri’s mouth to brush his hair away from his face, humming softly. “Tell me you want to touch me. That you want to fuck me. Tell me that my touch drives you mad. But not another word about service, do you hear me? This is not _penance._ This is… what it should be, and nothing else.” He tapped his fingers against Dimitri’s lips. “Do you understand?” 

Dimitri nodded. He did. His heart felt like it might actually leap free of his chest. Felix dropped his hand and gave him a wary look. 

“Good,” he said. 

“Let me see you,” Dimitri said, tugging at the fur lining of Felix’s coat, atop his shoulders. 

Felix slapped his hands away. “No,” he said, with another quick, devastating little grin, there and gone so fast he might have missed it had he blinked. Then he returned his hands to Dimitri’s shoulders and caught whatever reply he might have made in his own mouth, kissing him deeply once again. 

Dimitri growled into his mouth, and Felix shivered atop him at the sound. 

It felt -- wrong, to think of things that had passed between them before, to leverage any of it _now_, but he could not help but think of Felix trapped and panting beneath him, face twisted with fury and desire, daring him to fuck him harder, arching his back into a beautiful bow even as he kicked his heels into his back with bruising, punishing force. 

He growled again, and reached up to fist his fingers tight in Felix’s hair, pulling hard. Felix’s head snapped back, and he gasped, clutching his shoulders, lips wet and swollen. “Oh, yes,” Felix breathed, and Dimitri wound those strands of soft, beautiful hair around his fist and held him there as he leaned in to leave his own marks on that long, smooth neck of his. Felix rolled his hips and moaned his pleasure, murmuring his name and more enthusiastic affirmations as Dimitri sank his teeth into his skin. He left sharp little crescent marks as he went, until he was sucking a wet, red welt into Felix’s shoulder, his own face half buried in the fur of his coat. 

Felix caught his free hand in one of his own, and drew it between them, pressing it against the hard, aching heat between his legs. “Here,” he gasped, voice urgent. “Touch me. Dimitri.” 

Obediently, Dimitri palmed over the shape of him there, trapped within his clothing. He squeezed him, hard, and Felix shuddered and moaned for him, rocking atop him, flushed and sweating and so breathtakingly beautiful, he couldn’t possibly have looked away. Yet he could hear it when Felix turned his attention to his own buttons, working his pants open for him, and the very moment he was able to, he shoved a hand roughly within to grasp him tightly, skin to skin. Felix wiggled his pants down as Dimitri stroked him, breathing hard and fast, nodding and gasping, until they were down as far as they would go without spending considerable effort undressing further. 

“You are so beautiful,” Dimitri informed him, his tone reverent, his gaze awed. He slicked his palm with moisture leaking from the very tip of Felix’s flushed and eager cock, keeping his grip tight and his pace steady, his own body aching horribly to be touched, too. He wanted to beg for it. He wondered if that was what Felix was waiting for. 

Felix’s cheeks washed pink and he made a choking, scoffing sound. He thrust forward into Dimitri’s grip, his hips working, fucking into his fingers, and the thought was so damn appealingly erotic! Dimitri felt his cock jump, aching in its confinement, desperate for attention of its own. 

“Felix,” he breathed. “Please. I want you to touch me, too.” 

Felix let his gaze flicker down, burning in its intensity. “I’ve another use for that in mind,” he said. Dimitri swallowed, hard. 

“Let me,” he began, begging, but then -- he remembered holding Felix down, spreading him roughly, the sounds he had made, the way Felix had cursed him even as he bent himself and rocked onto his fingers. He sucked in a ragged breath. “Let me have you,” he said, neither desperate nor begging but _demanding_, authoritative, squeezing Felix’s cock as he spoke. 

Felix shuddered and nodded, his head bobbing, and Dimitri gazed up at him with wonder and desire mixing a heady cocktail in his mind. He understood, he thought. 

Felix wanted his king. 

He pulled his fingers roughly out of his hair and reached down to cup the curve of his ass, dipping his fingers down into the dip between. “Shall I fill you, Felix?” he offered, brushing his fingertips against the tight ring of his hole. 

“Yes,” Felix whispered. His eyes were bright and glassy, his cheeks washed with pink and red, his lips parted, just slightly. Dimitri’s cock throbbed, aching, needy. 

“Touch me, and perhaps I will.” 

He expected complaint, some sort of pushback or demand -- but no. Felix simply nodded, his hair falling over his shoulders, and reached down between them to open Dimitri’s pants at last. He could have wept with relief as his cock sprung free of its confinement and into Felix’s waiting, eager hands. He was dripping with desire already, the interior of his pants dark and damp with his fluids, and Felix wasted no time running his thumb over the slit at the tip of him and spreading that slick moisture over his length. Dimitri clenched his jaw and moaned, long and loud, his heart drumming loudly in his throat, in his ears, drowning out all else. It was wonderful, wonderful bliss. 

“Dimitri,” Felix hissed at him, wiggling out of his coat at last. His sweater beneath was soaked through with sweat, but this he left on even as he threw the coat aside and gave him a disgusted look. Dimitri realized he had paused his own ministrations, his hand still and limp around Felix’s cock.

He gave him one last long, lingering stroke, and then reached around to spread him open from behind. He stuck two fingers in his mouth, quickly, slicking them thick with his own saliva. Felix swore softly under his breath, watching him, and Dimitri gave him a proud little grin when he pulled his fingers free and returned them where they really belonged -- teasing Felix’s tight little opening from behind. 

“Yes,” Felix whispered. “Fuck, yes, Dimitri…” he wiggled his hips backward, still dutifully pumping his fist over Dimitri’s cock. It was wonderful, indescribable, incredible. Certainly, it merited reward. He sank two fingers in, and Felix jerked atop him in surprise, bowing over him and moaning his pleasure. “Yes!” he gasped. “Just like that, Dimitri, touch me, fuck me, please…” 

And he wanted to, quite desperately! But no. He refused to hurt him again. Tonight, this, it would be all pleasure, all bliss, and if there was any pain, well, it would be a sweet sort, the kind that Felix enjoyed, that only seemed to heighten his pleasure. 

“Tell me how it feels,” Dimitri said. “Do you crave it, Felix? Are you desperate to be filled?” He rocked his fingers in and out of him, slick and easy, stretching him between his fingers, watching his face, rocking his own hips into Felix’s trembling fingers. In truth, this was taking _him_ apart, too. He would need to be careful. If he came before he could slide into him and fulfill all of these teasing promises, he was quite certain Felix would never forgive him for it!

“_Yes,_” Felix hissed down at him, and though he tried for annoyance, his pleasure was all too plain. Dimitri grinned at him. 

“Say it,” he insisted, filling him, stretching him, pressing hard against his inner walls. Felix shook atop him. 

“Say -- what, exactly,” he demanded, glaring fury down at him. “What would you have me say? I want it, Dimitri, I want you. Is that it? I do.” 

“Ah…” Dimitri closed his eyes and licked his lips, letting the words sink all through him to join the pool of building heat deep within. “Say you burn for me,” he said. 

Felix make a choking, desperate sound. “Dimitri,” he begged. 

“Say it.” 

“You’re -- pathetic, you know --” 

He opened his eyes and withdrew his fingers. Felix threw his head back and made a fierce, furious, indescribably erotic sound with his throat, like he was determined to play the part of the beast, this night. 

“I burn for you,” he said. “I am positively on _fire,_ I need you, do you hear me? Look at me.” 

Dimitri met his gaze, still grinning. 

“Wipe that stupid look off your face,” Felix growled. 

“Say you’ve dreamed of this.” 

Felix groaned down at him, shaking his head. “I _have_ dreamed of this,” he ground out, between clenched teeth. “What else.” 

“Felix…” Dimitri reached up, brushing his hair gently back, tucking it behind his ear. Felix looked up at him and bared his teeth. 

“That had better not be the hand you just had in my ass,” he said. Dimitri snorted, biting his tongue to keep down his laughter. “Put it back,” Felix said, so very imperiously. 

“Say please,” Dimitri grinned. 

“..._Please,_” Felix breathed. 

“Very well. Because you asked so very nicely…” he opened him anew, watching his face contort with pleasure as he worked those same two fingers in, and then added a third. “You look so good,” he breathed. “I wish I had a mirror, so you could see how beautiful you are like this.” 

Felix let out a strained, breathless laugh, rocking himself backward onto Dimitri’s fingers, again and again. “You’re depraved,” he said. 

“You’d enjoy it, though,” Dimitri said, spreading his fingers within him, watching him moan and shake. “You’d do it willingly, if I asked. Wouldn’t you, Felix? Get on your hands and knees in front of a mirror, for me…” 

“Deranged,” Felix panted, his eyes narrowed, his face tight with effort and pleasure both. Exquisite.

“We could both watch your beautiful face while I filled you,” Dimitri sighed. He felt Felix’s cock twitch and weep against his stomach, and felt his own, as well. He wanted to hold him like this and tease him forever, but -- he needed him, too. He was desperate for it, in fact. “Do you want me to fill you, Felix?” he couldn’t help but ask. Just a little more wouldn’t hurt. 

“_Yes_,” Felix said, his voice tense with need, frustration, and pleasure still. 

Dimitri with drew his fingers, and leaned backward onto his elbows, gazing up at him. “If you want me -- take me,” he demanded. He reached up to put his hands on Felix’s hips, to help guide him. “I want to watch you work for your pleasure atop me.” 

Felix blinked down at him, lips parted. And then nodded, once. “Very well,” he breathed, and then he pushed himself onto his knees, lifted his ass, and slid forward, bracing himself with his hands on Dimitri’s chest. Dimitri helped him to the right spot, and then helped line them up, as well, and by the time he felt the head of his cock press tight against that soft, wet ring of muscle, Felix’s shoulders were shaking with effort. 

Dimitri braced himself and bore his weight with his hands. “As much as you like,” he whispered, voice strained. 

Felix gave him a fierce, hot grin. “I want it all,” he said. “Every last bit of you. Dimitri. I always have.” 

“And I’m yours, now,” Dimitri said. “Take me.” 

Felix sank down atop him, his mouth falling open with a desperate little cry as he did. Slowly, at first, maddeningly slow -- he was so hot within, so sweet, Dimitri could hardly think around it. They moaned together, their breaths and voices mingling as Felix took him in, further and further, until finally, at last, he was impaled upon him in full. Dimitri throbbed within him, desperate for movement and friction and release, and Felix’s own cock strained and leaked fluid that dribbled down the length of him, dripped onto Dimitri’s thighs and stomach. Dimitri looked to this, then up into Felix’s face, gripping his hips so tightly, too tightly, he knew he would leave bruises, but Felix didn’t seem to mind.

“_Finally_,” Felix breathed, wiggling atop him. Dimitri gasped, his head tipping back, nodding desperately. 

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Felix. I need --” 

“I know what you need,” Felix snapped. “I need it too. Hold on to me.” 

“Yes… ah, Felix! Do it, please, _please._” 

A pleased little smile curved his lips, and then he tossed his hair back -- so damned imperiously -- and lifted himself up the length of him. Dimitri cried out, Felix sank back down, and oh, it was bliss, it was bliss. Felix’s heat consumed him, over and over again, his body dragging tight around him, squeezing him, making him moan and gasp and beg for more, more, more. 

Felix never faltered for a moment. He grunted with each downstroke, clinging to him, crying out when he sank atop him at just the right angle, putting him directly where he wanted him most, fucking himself on Dimitri’s cock. If anything, as they drew closer to the edge together, Felix only quickened his pace, moaning and gasping, sweat dripping from his face to land on Dimitri’s chest. He was beautiful. He had always been beautiful. 

He threw his head back when he came, and Dimitri struggled to keep his eyes open, to etch every detail to memory -- the taut lines of his face, the wet shine on his lips. The marks and bites all down his neck. The way his throat bobbed as he howled his pleasure and cried his name in that sweet voice of his, high and singing with bliss. 

Dimitri caught him as he came down. 

He wrapped his arms around him, smoothing his fingers down his back, over the damp, clinging fabric of his sweater, sweet and soothing. They kissed, long and languid and wonderful, and Felix threw himself over him and wrapped his arms tight around his neck. “Do it, boar,” he hissed. 

It was all the permission he required. 

Dimitri hauled him up, inside him still, hard and aching and desperate. He pulled free, kissed Felix once more, hard and frenzied, and then he slid off the table back onto his feet. He turned Felix roughly about, sinking one hand into his hair, twisting it about his fist and holding it tight at the roots. Felix made a desperate, keening sound, and Dimitri pulled him hard against him. Felix’s back collided with Dimitri’s chest, smearing into the fluids Felix had put there. 

He turned them and bent Felix roughly over the table, pushing him down with the fist wrapped in his hair, and reached down with his other hand to guide himself back inside him. He sheathed himself in one long, hard thrust, loving the way Felix cried out, pushing back against him, braced with his forearms on the table. He hooked his arm around Felix’s middle and pushed into him, hard and fast, grunting his pleasure with each quick, brutal thrust. Felix matched his pace, moaning his name, encouraging him, begging him. 

It didn’t take long. 

He went taut as his climax took him, squeezing Felix tight against him, bending to cry his pleasure into the hot, damp collar of his soaked sweater. His cock jumped and his body clenched and he spilled himself inside him, rocking his hips and gasping throughout, turning his face to press his cheek against the back of Felix’s neck. 

He released his brutal grip on his hair, and Felix let his head drop, his breathing hoarse and ragged. 

“Oh,” Felix gasped, beneath him. “Dimitri. _Fuck._” 

Dimitri pulled him close and upright, wrapping his arms around him, resting his chin atop his shoulder. Felix melted back against him with a happy sigh. He smelled like sweat and sex. Dimitri kissed into his neck, murmuring marble-mouthed nonsense into his skin. Felix reached up for him, brushing a hand over his hair, down the side of his face. Dimitri turned his head and kissed his fingers, and Felix sucked in a breath and shivered in his arms. 

“There,” Felix said, his voice just the tiniest bit uneven. “Isn’t that better than being afraid?” 

Dimitri squeezed him tight. “Very much so,” he murmured. “So very much… ah. Felix… _Felix._ You are so very good, so good, so sweet…” 

Felix made a breathy, disparaging sound, and reached up to give Dimitri’s hair a little tug. “You’re very embarrassing,” he grumbled… and then he startled in Dimitri’s arms, and let out a low, rueful sort of laugh. 

“Hm?” Dimitri looked up, blinking.

“Look there,” Felix sighed, pointing. “You ruined your damned map.” 

He looked. Indeed, at some point Felix’s damned thermos had fallen over, spilling the rest of his heinous beverage all over their battle plans. The entire royal palace was stained with it, and the red ink around the throne had faded and run. 

Dimitri snorted, softly.

“I ought to make you explain it to Gustave, for me.” 

“Sure. I’ll inform him, very politely of course, that his Majesty simply fucked me too carelessly atop the war table, last night.” 

Dimitri smothered a choked little laugh into his shoulder, shaking his head. “Never mind,” he gasped. “I’ll take care of it, after all.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Very,” he said, and then, reluctantly, he loosened his grip on him and took half a step back. “Though I suppose we could just leave our things like this,” he said. Their clothes covered a good half of the table, tossed about as they were. “That rather tells the whole story, doesn’t it?” 

Felix yanked up his pants and set about buttoning them, shaking his head, and reluctantly, Dimitri followed suit. It was not a pleasant task. Cloth whispered and buttons clicked. 

“You do what you like, but I’m taking mine,” Felix said. “What they’ll assume from that, I don’t want to know.” 

He laughed. “I suppose I don’t either,” he agreed. “Very well. But, Felix…” 

Felix turned, and with his pants done up and his sweater still on, he might have passed for returning from a late night spar and nothing more. From the front, anyway. Dimitri smiled. 

Felix put his hands on his hips. “What? What are you looking at me like that, for?” 

“I want you in my bed, tonight,” Dimitri informed him. It was not a request, not a question, but a command, just the way he liked it. Felix colored prettily and ran a hand through his sweat tangled hair, like he had to consider it before answering. Well. He did have his pride. Dimitri gave him a patient smile. Felix rolled his eyes. 

“_Fine,_” he said. “Someone needs to make sure you sleep.” 

An hour ago, it would have been out of the question. The headaches, the noises, the flutters at the edge of his vision and the whispers and murmurs and sighs… but for now, all was still and quiet, and he replied with a grateful nod. 

From now on, whenever they returned, perhaps he’d have a better voice beside him, ready to drown them out.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter: [@landofsmthsmth](https://twitter.com/landofsmthsmth)


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